A policeman’s tail


Touches the place where they etched his heart
With horror
In his world
The alarms holler
And sirens are bolted to the bonnets
The role calls are sonnets
The assembly of the dawn raids
The standard issue charades
Of the incarcerated villains
His bullet proof vest
Only the start of the stain
Of what eyes have seen
The place where a clip on tie
Covered the v neck
In-between a Thomas jugular
His eyes have seen it all
On the beat
Size 11 shoe toe
On his ears the criminal words
the stubs Sound the same after a while
Yet the story
Never short to amaze
Salford street pub brawl
Violence rubs
And the silent passing
Of men living alone
Rigid on all fours in bath tubs
died
He found bizarre scores
In corner shops
The Salford men cut up rocks
Of cocaine
Then robbed the Texaco garage
Just so that he could come there
The tossing of stones
And the tease
The squad cars
And the release of doing something wrong-
For kicks
The house bricks fly
The fishwives sigh
And ask him
“cant you do something about it copper”
a resident lost
respect
yet I am in awe of him
the snapped tails matured
like a lizards limb
and the potency tempered
but like folklore grim
fascinating
his modesty draws
from a pit of fire
forged by gods knows who
he
a bullet proof man
he who wears the title of retirement
who boldly wears
a brave smile
he is a walking library
of film noire
stories to tell
so many stories
yelling to be released
so many stories
the Salford police
man


23rd May 2008.